


You Were Never Supposed To Leave

by galentines



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6587746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galentines/pseuds/galentines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the early loss of a father shaped and formed Leslie's life. (originally posted on LJ in 2014)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Never Supposed To Leave

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this on my livejournal (shornt) two years ago, but revisited it and really enjoyed it. Leslie losing her father is something I used to think about a lot, and is still something I really use to inform my headcanons for her. I can't imagine losing a father at ten years old, and that had to truly affect Leslie. This is my take on it :)

Leslie’s only seen her mother cry twice.  
  
The first time, she had come home from school, excited to show off an A+ on her most recent book report, and instead found her mother, eyes red, clutching the phone in her hand like a life line.  
  
Once they were in the car on the way to the hospital, Marlene’s fingers gripped the steering wheel with precision, and she stared straight ahead without flinching.  
  
By the time Leslie understood what was going on, that she’d never see her daddy again-- by the time it finally sunk in enough to cry, Marlene had already found her strength.  
  
So Leslie resolved to find hers, too.  
  
\---  
  
Marlene was a loving, if not pragmatic, mother. She was strict but supportive. She was realistic, but still made sure Leslie knew that she had a world of opportunity ahead of her. She hugged and kissed Leslie every single night, and told her she loved her each time they parted.  
  
But while Marlene checked over Leslie’s school essays with a critical gaze, Robert Knope had treated each page of homework like a small treasure for him to discover.  
  
When Leslie asked what she could be when she grew up, her mother gave her options, career paths, ideas influenced by Leslie’s strengths.  
  
Her father gave her the world.  
  
“You could work for the government,” Marlene offered, followed by a lecture on how the hierarchy of Pawnee City Hall worked, complete with the pitfalls of being a woman in that world, which departments Leslie would complement, what realistic offices a wide-eyed girl from Pawnee could run for.  
  
“Be the president,” her daddy said. “Run the whole damn country.”  
  
\---  
  
When he was gone, Marlene let Leslie go through his things, pick what meant the most to her to hold onto in his memory.  
  
How could you reduce a father down to a few personal belongings?  
  
Leslie picked his old watch, a few of his mystery novels, and a frame full of photos of the three of them. The Knopes.  
  
Marlene had nodded and firmly announced bedtime, kissing Leslie on the forehead and assuring Leslie that her father would always love her.  
  
Instead of going to sleep, Leslie grew angry. Her fists balled up, she punched her pillow, she cried because her father was gone and her mom was trying to keep it together instead of letting Leslie fall apart. She cried because Christmas morning would only be the two of them, because she wouldn’t be able to go to the father-daughter dance, because her dad had promised to take her shopping for new notebooks next week. They were supposed to see The Goonies at the local theater that weekend, and he told her the history project due on Friday that she already finished was perfect, and he said he loved her. He took her to the park every single Saturday afternoon, just the two of them, and held her hand while they ran circles around the grass.  
  
And he was gone.  
  
When she heard Marlene’s door close, she snuck out into the living room. She emptied the boxes and shoved it all in her closet, all of her father’s memories, every piece of him she could hold on to.  
  
She stayed up all night, staring at his handwriting on papers. She curled up in a ball, clutching the old sweatshirt with the paint stains that he wore around the house every weekend.  
  
\---  
  
She never stopped hoarding memories after that.  
  
\---  
  
It took five summers, five full years, for things to really feel okay again.  
  
And over time, the pain of not having her father dulled to the curiosity of what he’d do in a situation, what he’d think about her decisions.  
  
Would he have helped her run for Student Council President in high school?  
  
Would he have worn an ‘Indiana State Father’ t-shirt?  
  
Would he be happy she moved back home to Pawnee, or would he have encouraged her to expand elsewhere, the whole world ready at her fingertips?  
  
Would he be proud of the woman she became?  
  
\---  
  
Every year on June 10th, Marlene and Leslie stay and pour over old photo albums, trading memories for slices of Robert’s favorite kind of cake, Boston Cream.  
  
Say what you will about Marlene, but she’s never missed a year.  
  
(When Leslie was 19, fresh off her first year of college independence, she ended up shouting at her mother, wondering why Marlene’s never seemed to feel the same pain Leslie tried to power through for the past nine years of her life.  
  
That was the second time she saw her mother cry.)  
  
\---  
  
He would have loved having the Harvest Fest back.  
  
He would have teased Marlene until she coquettishly agreed to a ride on the ferris wheel. He would have bought Leslie all the cotton candy she wanted. They even would have taken a family photo with Li’l Sebastian, she’s sure of it.  
  
It’s the most she’s thought about her dad in a while.  
  
She digs up an old photo, faded at the edges, her hair in bouncy pigtails and her dad’s smile wide, a mini-horse in the background.  
  
\---  
  
He would like Ben, she thinks.  
  
\---  
  
The first time she tells Ben about her father, it’s almost on accident. They’re in front of the wildflower mural, empty paper plates still in their laps as a weak excuse to stay in the building after hours. She’s already decided to delete her Hoosiermate profile once they finally finish, and her heart beats faster every time their hands are near each other in the bench.  
  
“Oh right, my dad used to like that movie, too.”  
  
His eyebrows knit in concern when she clarifies that her father has passed, but she barrels forward with the same vigor that would make Marlene Griggs-Knope proud, albeit with a smile on her face.  
  
\---  
  
She tells him everything the night he kisses her in the Smallest Park. When she knows for sure that he’s everything, that he loves her even if they haven’t said it yet, that she wants to share all her most vulnerable parts with him and be ready when he decides to share his.  
  
And it’s not the same, not at all, but Leslie’s already lost the other most important man in her life. She’s going to hold onto this one as tightly as she can.  
  
\---  
  
He would have helped with her campaign, and been the first in line to vote for her, and he and Marlene would have hugged when she won.  
  
He would have visited when Ben was in DC, kept her company over the long summer, showed off the picture of her engagement ring to all of his friends.  
  
\---  
  
She loves Ron, loves him as a good friend and an unwilling mentor and someone who’s willing to punch the man that ruins her special day.  
  
Would her dad have punched Jamm, had he walked her down the aisle?  
  
It’s almost sunrise and Ben’s dead asleep next to her, exhaustion from a midnight wedding and enjoying his new wife into the early morning hours. But she lies awake, wondering.  
  
Who would Robert Knope be now?  
  
She’s done so many things, achieved so much, without a father.  
  
And now she’s gotten married, she’s said “I do” to a man she loves more than anything, and her mother wasn’t there either. And Leslie’s past the point where she needs Marlene’s approval, she’s past the aching need to make her mother the proudest because she only had one parent around to cheer from the audience at debate competitions.  
  
But still, she’s only had Marlene for so long, and didn’t even have her at the ceremony. She doesn’t regret the wedding, but she still worries, still feels the sharp pain in her chest. Still cries into the pillow quietly, hoping her mother won’t be disappointed in her.  
  
Even in his sleep, Ben curls protectively around her. And when her shaking is enough to wake him, he promises they’ll call Marlene first thing, kisses her and loves her enough that she knows she’ll be okay.  
  
With Ben’s arms around her and the sun just starting to peek through the February clouds, she smiles because she’s so happy. Really, it’s the happiest she’s ever been. And that will be enough for Marlene.  
  
It would have been enough for her father, too. It always had been.


End file.
